Roz's Fella, Dan's Dilemma
by anneviktorr
Summary: Happy Birthday, Roz! Well... maybe not so happy. When she gets dumped by phone mid-party, no one can talk her out of her own pity party—no one, except the guy least qualified for the job. However, a simple request and a turn of events leave them both wondering the impossible.


_I am getting back into the writing saddle, so I hope you'll enjoy yet another Dan/Roz story. If you've read my other fic, "Killing Two Birds", consider this one "theme and variations": I used some of the same ideas, so I hope it's not too repetitive or boring! Unlike my earlier fics, I wanted it to read more like how one would watch a show, so this one is way more dialogue-driven, and stays out of their heads... mostly... sorta. Like it? Meh? Reviews are bronzed and proudly displayed on my fireplace mantel. Thank you! =)_

Roz's Fella, Dan's Dilemma

The familiar courtroom gang were all gathered at Roz's small apartment for her birthday party when she had just gotten off the phone.

"Hey, was that your boyfriend?" asked Christine, full of inquisitive bounce.

"Yeah, he just called to say he wasn't coming," replied Roz.

"Oh, darn! Why not?"

"He just broke up with me," she answered plainly. Everybody slowed to a stop in their various pursuits of eating, drinking, and talking, to get a better listen. "Excuse me," she said as she started off down the hall. "Oh, and would the last person to leave please turn out the lights and lock up?" After a moment they could hear the bathroom door closing and locking. Some time passed before any headway could be made in talking to her. First Christine, with her indefatigable pollyanna optimism (shot down), then Harry tried with his sagacious common sense, and when that failed, tried humor (no dice); then Bull, followed by Mac, until it was Dan's turn to (reluctantly and with peer pressure) talk her out of the bathroom.

"Roz, open up," called Dan, unsypathetically, through the door.

"Go away, Dan," replied Roz.

"Come on, I have to use the bathroom."

"There's a planter outside."

"Roz," he said with some annoyance, "you're being ridiculous. Certainly you aren't going to let a guy who breaks up by phone phase you?"

"Would you mind your own business? And you break up by phone all the time!"

"That's beside the point. Come on, you're ruining the party mood. Now come out here before the margarita mix runs out."

Silence. Dan exhaled with exasperation as he looked at his watch, wondering how long he'd have to do this to count as a concerted effort. He stood there for a minute before an idea came to him.

"Roz."

"Go away!" she bellowed. "And while you're at it, pass the message on to everyone else. If I'm gonna be lonely, I may as well do it thoroughly."

"Ok, listen to me," he paused. "Do you remember when you were up on that damn roof a year ago?" More silence from within the bathroom.

"And how I saved your life?" Still silence. "I'm calling it in."

A pause and then, "what do you mean you're 'calling it in'?"

"I mean, one good turn deserves another. Now turn the doorknob."

There was a long moment before the lock could be heard unbolting. He promptly opened the door and came in.

"That was a low blow, Dan," Roz glared at him.

"Well, I wouldn't have to bring it up if you would be reasonable." he replied pointedly. "You seem to forget that the people on the other side of the door are your friends.

"What good are friends when you're old and alone?"

He stared at her for a minute. The words sounded strangely familiar, but he shook the feeling and tried the insensitive approach, instead. "Is that what all this moping is about?"

"Dan, I'm warning you: I have a plunger in here and I know how to use it," she threatened.

"What are you going to do? Unclog me?"

She looked at him menacingly.

"Ok, don't answer that." He stepped over to the bathtub and sat down on the edge. "Pull up a toilet cozy." She looked at him disbelievingly, but he stared back. "What do you want me to do? Fluff it first?" He waved his hand over it in a billowy manner. She rolled her eyes and exhaled, sitting down on it. He looked down at the matching toilet carpet, trying to think of what Harry might say in this sort of situation, but coming up blank, decided to just shoot from the hip. "Level with me, Roz. What's this about being 'all alone?', even though you have a gaggle of friends in the other room who would take a bullet for you?"

"I don't want to talk about it," she persisted, "especially not with you."

" _Especially not with me_ why?"

"You wouldn't understand."

"Try me."

She shook her head in disdain and chose not to look at him.

"Oh, what? So now I get the silent treatment?"

When Dan saw he wasn't going to get anywhere, he stood up. "Y'know, I would have pegged you for taking some sort of revenge on his car or something, not holing yourself up in the bathroom." He walked back to the door and made to leave, but looked back before he turned the knob. Roz was still sitting on the toilet lid, and still ignoring him. He thought it very unlike her not to at least deliver a swift kick to the shin in response to his pep talk. He opened the door, wanting to leave, but felt a little guilty for leaving her there, even if she was behaving like a sixteen-year-old. He continued to hover at the door, but finally chose to close it with himself still inside. After all, he figured, he'd racked up enough guilt for one week's worth of base pursuits than to load his conscience with any more.

"What, aren't you gonna leave?" she challenged, after he'd been watching her for a while.

He chose to brush off the remark. "Come here, I want to show you something."

"I bet that line works on all the ladies."

"Oh, would ya just stand up, already?" he huffed. Roz looked at him skeptically, but reluctantly got up and came to where he was. He edged behind her and put his hands on her shoulders, guiding her to face the bathroom mirror. "Now, just look," he said, but she responded by letting out a breath of annoyance. He kept silence as he watched her look anywhere but the mirror. She began to notice the comfortable weight of his hands on her shoulders, and a growing warmth from his closeness. She realized the sort of friend who was standing behind her, as well as the irritating fact that he wasn't going to budge. She finally turned to face their reflection—she might as well get it over with, anyway, she reasoned.

"Do you know what I see?" Dan asked tacitly.

"I have a feeling you're going to tell me no matter what I say," Roz replied grumpily, though feeling perhaps a little curious what he had to say in what appeared to be one of his emotionally lucid moments.

Still ignoring her snark, he continued. "I see someone who's getting older (she gave him a dirty look)... who still hasn't found someone who'll love them forever, no matter what... who's scared to death of being alone... and who'll do just about anything to distract them from that reality."

"Dan, I don't need anyone to sum up my life for me—"

"—I was talking about me."

They silently looked at each other in the mirror. There was nothing more to say, and they both knew it. He could feel the shoulders under his hands give up some of their tension. Roz looked down after a little while, blinking and trying to clear her vision which had inexplicably become blurry.

"Come on now..." he implored softly as he turned her around and pulled her into a hug.

They remained there for a time in the middle of that small bathroom. "I'm scared, Dan," she finally confessed.

"I know, baby, I know," he said, subdued. "You know who to come to if you need anything, right?"

She looked up at him as they stood there together. "Even if I'm all wrinkly and hunchbacked over a walker?"

"I'll let you borrow my denture cream. Hell, we can even team up for senior bowling tournaments. And I hate bowling, so that's saying a lot."

Roz gave him a grateful look. He grinned back and lightly kissed her forehead. He drew her back into his arms and, completely at ease for the first time that night, she closed her eyes and settled her head against his shoulder. After some time, she spoke. "I don't want to be alone."

"That won't happen as long as we're friends."

"I mean," Roz clarified, "I don't want to be alone... tonight."

It took him a few seconds to realize what she was saying. "You mean..." he attempted to verbalize it, "you want... _me_... to stay... with you... tonight?" When she didn't correct him, he started to splutter a little. "Well! Um... that's an interesting thought!"

Roz immediately regretted her request and began to pull away. "Wait, Roz," he said before she could break free completely. "Just hold still. I swear you're more fidgety than Bull hopped up on caffeine with a Rubik's Cube. Look at me," he touched her cheek lightly to get her eyes back on him. "Now, didn't I say you could come to me for anything?"

"I don't want your pity—"

"It's not pity, it's called being a friend. At least that's what I think a friend would do, I'm not a very good one so I can't say for sure. But I'm not going anywhere. Well, ok, I _am_ going to leave this bathroom, though I love what you've done with the place." He looked at her more seriously now, with something like compassion. "Trust me?"

She looked up into his brown eyes doubtfully, but when she saw that he was resolved, she relented. He kissed her on the cheek, though lingered close after the fact, perhaps wondering about just _what_ the implications for staying there overnight would entail. His wondering, however, was interrupted by a quick tap at the door.

"Roz?" called Christine through the door. "Dan, are you still in there?" They seemed to have forgotten to breath for several seconds because they both took a deep breath and leaned away from each other.

"Yeah, I'll be out in a minute," Roz answered. Then to Dan, "You go ahead, I'll be right behind you."

"Ok," he nodded and turned to leave.

"Dan?" she added.

"Yup?"

"Thanks."

He gave her a look of understanding before he exited.

* * *

The remainder of the party was spent much the same way as before: eating, drinking, and talking. The only difference was now everybody seemed to have something disparaging to say about Roz's dud of an ex-boyfriend, as well as something praiseworthy to say about Roz. She faired being the center of attention rather well, though summoning all her powers of patience and grace—which weren't much to begin with on a good day—to do so. Dan seemed uncharacteristically subdued that evening, so that even Harry noticed and made a remark about it. Dan mumbled something in reply about having a lot on his mind, then was promptly teased that the "a lot" on his mind was probably the bra size of some floozy of a woman expecting him later that night. Dan's eyes flashed with anger for a split-second, then embarrassment. He tried to recollect himself and make light of it, which seemed to appease (and, consequently, repel) everyone, except for Roz, whom he found watching him thoughtfully. He gazed back at her, then quickly away with a look of displacement. He decided, instead, to focus on the drink in his hand, which he downed in one.

Dan and Roz didn't mingle together too much that evening, but for once in the kitchen. Dan was going in to take care of a spill on his otherwise crisp white collared shirt, and had bumped into Roz who was focused on the bucket of ice she was just coming out with, which clattered to the floor along with its contents. She cursed and was about to get up in arms with whoever had gotten in her way, until she saw it was Dan (cowering and bracing himself against whatever the fitting punishment was for the blunder). She seemed to diffuse herself, however, and they both knelt down on the linoleum to collect the strewn cubes. They reached for the last one together, where Dan grasped Roz's hand instead of the ice. "Sorry," he said as he released it, but then offered his hand to her as she stood back up. He was less hasty to let go this time. "Killer party," he smiled.

"Think so?" Roz asked, quite accustomed to his sarcasm.

"Yeah, just look at all the ice I could have slipped on and broke my neck."

"It wouldn't have spilled if you had watched where you were going."

"Yeah, well, the food is exceptionally messy, just look at my shirt," he said, gesturing to the lurid orange stain on the front.

"Why don't you take it off and soak it in the sink?"

He was about to answer automatically, but then gave her a double-look. His mind naturally jumped to innuendo when women propositioned the removal of clothing. At that moment, however, Bull had come in looking for a trash bag to tuck into his collar so he wouldn't ruin his clothes when eating hot wings.

"Hey, I know what you're doing!" Bull exclaimed as he pointed to their hands which were still clasped.

"You do?" they said in unison while quickly letting go.

"Sure! You're doing a palm reading! I once had my palm read at the fair, and everything the fortune teller told me came true. Well, except for the one where I would be a groomsmen at 'the wedding of a grey-haired friend with a derisive sense of humor and a penchant for womanizing.'"

"She said all that?" wondered Dan.

"Yeah, but since you're the only one who fits the bill, I'm pretty sure she was just an old fraud. I mean, _you?_ _Married_?" And he roared with laughter. After he calmed himself, he noticed Dan's shirt. "Wow, look at that horrible stain! Shoulda taken my advice," he sang.

"Well excuse me for not wanting to look like a Slip n' Slide."

Bull merely shrugged as he walked out of the kitchen, snickering and musing to himself, " _Married! Ah, what a riot..._ "

Dan looked a little demoralized. Roz gave him a knowing look, nudged his arm with a light bump of her fist, and said, "stranger things have happened," before turning around to dig more ice out of the freezer. He stood there for a minute, trying to believe her, then shook it off and went to dab his shirt with a wet paper towel.

The hour was getting late and the party was winding to a close. After Christine practically begged to stay with Roz for moral support, and Roz repeatedly turned her down, she said good night to her, then to Harry and the rest, minus Dan. After she closed the door, she wondered herself just what she was going to _do_ with Dan under her roof all night. She turned around but, at just that moment, a loud knock came at the door. The normally unshakable Roz jumped with a start, then turned around again to answer the door. Harry entered in.

"Sorry! forgot my hat," he smiled, then noticed Dan still in the room. "Are you gonna come?"

"What?!" he replied with mortification, then, "Oh! no, you go ahead. I'm gonna work on this pesky stain some more," he forced a smile. Roz closed the door again after he left, then stood there for a moment, flung the door wide open, and peered out just to make sure she wouldn't get any more starts from anyone else coming back for forgotten belongings. After she locked the door, she turned around and found Dan fussing over his shirt once more.

"Take it off," said Roz, walking over to him. He stared at her blankly. "So I can _soak_ it," she added, seeing that he apparently had been questioning his purpose here tonight, as well.

"Oh, right! Of course," he chuckled, and proceeded to remove it, leaving his undershirt intact.

"Can I get you something to drink?" she offered as she went off to the kitchen with the soiled garment.

"No, thanks. I had my fill tonight," he called back as he sat down on the couch. She came back out a minute later and sat down next to him, grabbing the remote and turning on the TV. "Anything good on?"

"Nah, I just like the extra noise."

He nodded. "I usually turn on talk radio. But TV's good, too!" he added when she gave him a look. She gazed forward, trying to focus on the contents spilling out of the screen, so he tried to do the same.

After about ten minutes of this, she finally spoke, though her gaze was still set forward. "Thank you again for being here with me."

He turned to look at her. "Sure thing."

"You didn't have to, you know."

"I know. I wanted to." A pause. "Hey, can I just ask you something?"

"Shoot."

"Why didn't you take Christine up on her offer to stay with you? She was chomping at the bit to do her good deed for the day."

"I had already asked you to. Would you rather I had asked her, instead?"

"No, no, that's not what I meant. I was just wondering, why me, rather than one of your more _qualified_ friends?"

She was quiet for a moment. "Dan, do you know why I didn't want to talk to you in the bathroom?"

"You mean ' _especially_ ' me?" he quoted her.

She turned to look at him now. "For all the head-butting we do, and for all the ways I can't stand you... you're still the one that gets me the most. Sometimes I don't want to look that deeply into myself, so I avoid the ones who have a knack for getting into my head."

"So then, why ask me to stay?"

Roz shrugged. "Sometimes a girl just needs to be with her best friend."

This admission was as unexpected as it was deeply felt, and he was silent at it. She went back to staring at the TV, but he had a harder time focusing on it.

"Roz," he finally said as he picked up the remote to mute it.

"That was my favorite commercial," she looked at him seriously.

"I'll record it for you later. Listen," he said as he scratched at the imaginary collar around his neck,"there's something I've been meaning to tell you for a long time now."

"You're finally gonna pay me back for those Yankees tickets?"

"No, just let me finish before I mutate back into my subhuman form. Earlier this evening, when I had brought up the time on the roof—"

"—You mean when you guilted me so I would open up the door?"

"Yeah, that. And then afterward, when you thanked me, you told me I was a good friend, and that you lo—," the word got caught in his throat.

"That I loved you?"

"Yeah. Well, I um...I should have said it back to you. Fact is, you deserve to hear it." He cleared his throat, then cleared it again for good measure. "Roz, I l—... I lo—..." He took a deep breath to try again, but she spoke up.

"Don't worry about it, Dan. I know, and you know that I know, and that's all that matters."

He breathed a sigh of relief and nodded. Then stopped, and began to shake his head, instead. "No. I can't go around the rest of my life not even being able to tell my closest friends what they mean to me. Of all the things I can be accused of (which is quite a bit), I don't want that to be one of them." He turned his whole body to face her square on now, and his eyes kindled with determination which caught even Roz off guard. "Roz, I—" he paused and looked deeply into her eyes, "I love you, too," he spoke quietly but clearly. For a moment she was stunned, the first reason being that Dan had actually uttered these words, sincerely and of his own volition. Secondly, that he had directed them at her. And thirdly, that she couldn't remember the last time someone had told her so. The last one was the most difficult for her to retain her usual stoic demeanor, and it was evident he had struck a chord. After all, it was one thing to dish it out, but it was quite another for her to be on the receiving end. She looked down and tried to think of something pithy to say, or even something sincere, but nothing came to her except to take his hand and hold it, so that's what she did. He closed his other hand over her own, and when she looked up into his face again, he was watching her intently and more tenderly than she was used to from him, or anyone, for that matter. They seemed to be drawn into each others' gaze, leaning imperceptibly toward each other—

—KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK went the door.

They both gasped and quickly turned to the sound, then, "who in the hell...?" Roz muttered something about burning all of Harry's belongings as she got up and went to answer the door. Dan stood up to conceal himself in the hallway. For some reason, he didn't feel like answering questions about him being there, and he breathed a sigh of relief when the voice of the visitor was unfamiliar to him. His ease, however, was very short-lived. He peeked around the corner, beholding a very tall, very large man, in the clydesdale sense, and one, whom he intuited, should not be crossed.

"Clarence, what are you doing here?" asked Roz, with that familiar indignant glint in her eye.

"Baby, I was thinking," he began as he stepped inside, "I was wrong to break up with you. I was having a bad day and spoke rashly. Will you forgive me?" he asked in his deep bass voice. But just at that moment, he noticed a shadow move in the hall. "You got company?" He peered over Roz's shoulder to get a better look.

"It's none of your business."

"I see, well then you wouldn't mind if I just use your bathroom?" And he made to walk toward the hall, but Roz moved to block him. He gave her a sharp look, then called out, "whoever's here better come out where I can see them."

There was a thick silence, then suddenly, there wasn't. At first it wasn't discernible, but then it could be plainly heard: a man singing in what could only be Spanish. Dan, knowing he couldn't hide forever, came out with a hand towel, dusting walls, windows, table tops, and even the potted plant, while giving a rousing chorus of Feliz Navidad.

"Roz!" exclaimed Clarence upon beholding this strange man.

Roz looked at Dan disbelievingly, but then tried to go along with his ridiculous disguise. "Don't mind señor Carlos, he's just cleaning up after the party."

"At 12:15 in the morning?!"

"He's on Tijuana time."

"He looks pretty white for a Spanish dude. Hey you!"

Señor Carlos turned around to see the man clearly doubting his ethnicity. "Ah! Hola!" he said in a nasally accent. "Como esta usted? Muy bien y gracias! Mi cantina es Taco Bell por la comida la cucaracha bonita..." and he rambled on some more random phrases and words that had sat dormant in his brain up until that point.

"You'll have to excuse Carlos," Roz interrupted, "he's a little loco in the cabeza." And she shot him a look as if he actually was.

"Si, si," Dan squinted and smiled widely, tapping his forehead with a fingertip.

Clarence watched him in baffled incredulity for a moment longer before he put a halt to the charade. "I've had just about enough! Roz, you seriously don't expect me to believe all this?" And he started toward him.

"Okay, okay! Alright, alright!" Dan doffed his lame deception. "My name isn't Carlos."

"Yeah, what is it then?"

"I'm not telling."

"Roz, I'm warning you—"

"Hey, look here pal. Nobody talks that way to Roz... without some sort of internal injury. I should know..."

Clarence ignored him for the moment, "I can't believe you're cheating on me with Mr. Wonder Bread here!"

"Dan's just a friend."

"Oh really, your friends just lounge around your place half-dressed?" he noted the tank top undershirt. "You owe me an explanation."

"Alright," said Roz, "here's your explanation: You broke up with me. The end."

"Yeah, and I could see it took you a long time to get over me, too! I bet you've been keeping him on the side this whole time!"

"Look here, buddy—" said Dan, thrusting a finger at him.

"I _ain't_ your buddy," he replied, his anger and, therefore, threat to Dan's bodily well-being, climbing higher.

"Dan, you really shouldn't—" cautioned Roz.

"No, I should. You think you can just waltz in here after the way you treated Roz and get your way because your forearms are the size of pylons. Well, not tonight. She deserves better than that, and certainly better than the likes of you."

"But you think she deserves _you_?" he sneered, taking a step closer.

Dan hesitated and looked at her. "No... she deserves better than me, too. But at least I can acknowledge as much. Now, you can take your egotistical, self-centered, entitled fat head and leave," he declared, but then added, thinking out loud, "Geez, I feel like I've heard that speech before."

" _Or what_?"

"Or I'll... I'll..." Dan tried to think of a realistic punishment, but as he could think of none realistic _and_ scary enough, went with the generic, "or I'll _make_ you."

Clarence belted out a laugh at this empty threat. "Your gigolo may have spunk," he said to Roz, "but he sure don't have a lot of wits." He took yet another step forward and slapped his heavy fist into his concrete slab of an open palm, looking purposeful.

"I swear, Clarence, if you lay a hand on him, I can't be held accountable for my actions."

"Well, don't you two make a pretty pair!" he teased. "I bet he's as impotent in the bedroom as his words."

At this, Dan's eyes flashed fire. "Nobody," growled Dan, "calls," he stepped forward, "me," he clenched his fists, " _impotent_." At this declaration, he summoned all of the testosterone lurking in every forgotten corner of his six feet, four and a half-inch frame to deliver what promised to be a spectacular blow. Even Clarence had a look of bewilderment as Dan charged at him full throttle. It was just too bad the spectacular blow, which was intended for Clarence's "fat head", was delivered, instead, to his spectacular shoulder, the sleeve of which looked as though it was concealing football padding.

"Dan, look out!" were the last words Dan heard right before he felt his jaw shift in an unnatural way, and didn't even have time to wonder who turned out the lights.

* * *

The first thing Dan noticed was that it was dark, but realized upon doing an inventory of his body parts, that it was because his eyes were closed. The next thing he noticed was extreme pain in the side of his face, which was in the process of swelling and bruising impressively. He was then aware of something moving through his hair, but if he could stake his life on any fact, it would be that it was the fingers of a woman.

He ventured to open his eyes and found a familiar face hovering over him upside down. "Roz," he groaned, closing his eyes again. "Why do I feel like I just got hit by a two-by-four?"

"Because you did. Clarence "Two-by-Four" Smith. That was his fighting name.

"Boxing?"

"Cage Fighting."

"Ah."

"That was a really stupid thing you did, Dan. You could have gotten hurt," she said as she applied an ice pack to his jaw while his head lay in her lap.

He flinched at the cold. "What do you call this?" he gestured to his face, "Swedish massage?" Then his eyes popped open, "where is he now?"

"No need to worry. He's outside, sleeping in the dumpster." And just then, the sound of the trash truck came close, and said dumpster could be heard emptying into it. They listened as it drove away. "Now he's taking a road trip."

"What did you _do_ to him?" marveled Dan.

"Do you really wanna know?"

He considered it briefly. "Nah." He then slowly hoisted himself up to a sitting position on the floor with some difficulty. "Why is it that I always seem to sustain bodily injuries or have my life put in jeopardy whenever I get involved in your personal life?"

"Well, when you consider it all, you did get off pretty easy tonight. So did I, thanks to you."

"Yeah, I'm always glad to be a human shield against professional cage fighters."

"That's not what I mean. What I mean is, I don't think I would have had the guts to tell him to leave, if it weren't for you. I probably would have taken him back, just so I wouldn't be alone."

"I don't see what I did that was so great. I couldn't even punch him properly." He shook his head, but it hurt, so he stopped.

"You didn't have to knock him out, it's just the fact that you stood up for me. Guys don't usually do that because they've gotten it into their heads somehow that I'm tough."

"Gee, I can't imagine how they could think _that_."

"But the real bravery you showed was before he came over. When you said you loved me. I know that wasn't easy, but it made it that much more meaningful... It gave me the courage I needed."

"Yeah, well..." Dan trailed off, uncomfortable with receiving compliments about his character. "I'm sure you were saved from more than one mistake tonight."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean me. _Us_. I can only imagine where tonight could have gone, and I _do_ have a colorful imagination. I would have been your rebound, and you'd be regretting it in the morning."

She considered this. "You're probably right."

"Well, you're not supposed to agree with me!"

"Come on, I'll help you up onto the couch." After she had done that, she sat down beside him. "You know what I'll never regret, though?"

"Huh." he said, slouching against the ice pack on his face.

"Your friendship. I hope I never lose it, whether or not tonight would have panned out differently." They considered each other, wondering the same "what-ifs". At length, she spoke. "You look beat—no pun intended." Dan watched her as she got up to get some sheets and blankets out of the linen closet, then shortly returning. "Now, get up, you're sitting on my bed."

"I'm what? Don't be ridiculous."

"I'm not, and you're still sitting there."

"I'm not taking your _bed_."

"You earned it. It's not every day Dan Fielding gets KOed on behalf of yours truly, without having even deserved it. Besides, the left side of your face won't even fit on those cushions."

"Nu-uh. I'm not going to have the extra chivalry points I earned tonight cancelled out by you sleeping here."

She perched her hand on her hip and wagged her head at him. "You're forgetting that I have no problem using physical force."

He rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated breath at her stubborness. " _Roz_..." He massaged his temple with his free hand for a minute. He looked up at her with all her state, and while it still wasn't enough to prevail upon his valiant streak, he really wasn't in the mood for a wrastle tonight, even with a woman.

Then, something in his look told Roz that he seemed to be formulating a scheme that she would have to be on guard for, and when he asked her if she trusted him—for the second time that night—she answered with all the mistrust in the world, " _yes_..."

* * *

To the casual eye, the next month appeared much the same as usual in Judge Harry's courtroom. Dan still flung sarcastic remarks about like a caged monkey with a handful of—well—to just about anything that cast a shadow; was still strapped for cash because he spent most of his money on the wrong things (and still annoyed his friends in asking for loans); and still tried to climb the ladder of success by just about any means necessary.

And Roz went about her usual business of frightening the law breakers under her charge into submission; trying and failing on a regular basis to manage her temper; and putting in a droll remark where it fit the occasion, though rarely appreciated by anyone within earshot. Dan and Roz's friendship didn't seem to change much, either, but for the times they passed each other in the hall, or happened to interact in the court room, where they exchanged looks here and glances there, that ranged anywhere from calculating to compassionate, sympathetic to cynical. They also found themselves sitting next to each other at lunch nearly every day, even if they didn't utter a word to each other; though the knee bumps and foot nudges that happened under the table from time to time were understood as purely accidental and, therefore, never discussed.

There was something, however, that seemed very strange to Roz regarding Dan, and when she approached him in the courtroom after work to question him about it, he merely muttered something inarticulate and vague as he stacked files into his briefcase.

"I didn't catch that," she replied.

"I said," he reiterated furtively, "that I haven't had the time."

"I can see that much. Your social calendar's been booked solid with friends and outings for a month straight. I swear if I have one more Chee-tos during a Movie Nite my roots are gonna turn orange. But that still doesn't answer my question."

"Fine," he relented, "I haven't _decided_ to make the time for that, ok? I'm just taking a little break to, you know, evaluate that part of my life."

"Dan, the longest time you've spent away from women was for two weeks when you were worried about your little troopers (he rolled his eyes), and you were a nervous wreck at the end of it. Now, here it is a month later, and you don't even have an eye twitch to show for it. What's changed?"

"What's changed? What do you think 'what's changed'?" he asked impatiently as he shut the briefcase and stood up to face her. "Y'know, you really threw a monkey wrench into my personal life that night I stayed with you. I mean, really, how do you expect a guy to have one of the most intimate experiences he's ever had, just to go back to a subpar dating career, which I didn't even know was 'subpar' up until that point, thank you very much."

"Dan, we didn't even do anything but lay in bed and talk all night."

"Cruel irony," he said dejectedly.

"I still don't see what that night has to do with your dating life."

"'I still don't see' _blah blah blah_..." he mocked, "Come on, Roz. You know—" he broke off and looked away.

"I know what?" she prompted.

He turned back to her with a look of sincerity muddled with frustration. "You know that's what I _want_. It's the only thing I've ever really wanted... that level of openness, and understanding, and closeness. God, it felt so good to hold you in my arms." He paused at the recollection. "Don't you see? How impossible it would be for us..." When he saw that Roz remained silent at all this, he went on. "I mean, we're friends, right? What if things didn't work out between us? Would I lose your friendship? Would I lose my front teeth to your knuckles? And then there's the problem of _me_. I meant it when I said I didn't deserve you. You could find better men in holding than me. And we're _too_ different... and too much the _same_." He ran out of things to say, looking a little miserable as he stood there.

Roz watched him for a minute, deliberating before she spoke."You're a good prosecutor, Dan. But sometimes you're a little too good. All I have to say is, I hope someday I find someone who gives a damn about me as much as you do. But," she added, seeing that Dan merely looked down at his briefcase, fidgeting with the clasps, "maybe it's best you went back to subpar. I mean, heaven forbid two people who think so much of each other should actually do something about it. Good night, Dan. Enjoy the Friday night bowling tournament." She turned and walked out the court room door.

"So _that's_ what's been going on between you two, huh?"

Dan spun around to see who was talking, then noticed something out of the corner of his eye. It was a very tiny Harry, complete with tiny fedora, sitting on his shoulder. Dan belted out a yell of terror and his whole body spasmed at this disturbing vision.

"Oh, don't worry," smiled tiny Harry, "I'm just a latent hallucination from when you got your clock cleaned by Mr. Two by Four."

Despite Dan's repeated efforts to brush, flick, and bat him off his shoulder, Harry stayed put.

"Sorry, I'm here until your brain finally works right, which will be right about the time you go after her."

"What?!"

"You know, _Roz_. Gee, he really did a number on you; but if you hurry, you might catch her before she leaves the bailiff's lounge."

"What?!"

"Did he affect your hearing, too? Go after her, you cotton head!"

Finally, something clicked in said cotton head, rather like the opposite of when Dan's lights got punched out. He stared at the door, and then looked back down at his shoulder, but tiny Harry was no longer there. He unstuck his feet from the floor and hurried them out of the courtroom and down the hall to the elevator. He found the bailiff's lounge and looked around only to find it empty. He dashed back out into the corridor and nearly knocked over the lady just exiting the restroom.

"You know, you got a bad habit of running into people, particularly me," said Roz as she picked up her bag and straightened her sweater.

"Please don't hurt me!" he pleaded as he shielded himself with his arms.

"Would you relax? Geez, you've beaten yourself up enough for the both of us tonight. What are you doing down here, anyway? Aren't you gonna be late to the lanes?"

He finally caught his breath from running around, as well as the scare, and faced her. "I'm not going," he declared.

"The Bowling Stones are gonna miss you. I can't believe you actually asked Harry to resurrect that stupid team again."

"What can I say? I was desperate."

"Apparently. Now, what do you want?"

He gave her a very unambiguous sort of look, and lifted his hand to gently touch her cheek. "This."

He drew near and kissed her. Thoroughly. And she let him.

After some time she asked, "What was that for?" in an attempt to sound annoyed, but only managing to sound vulnerable and a bit flustered.

He looked down at her warmly, enjoying how lovely she looked that way. "I wanted to see what it was like to kiss my best friend," he said, still holding her close.

She lifted her eyes to him, pleased to hear him say those last two words. "And?"

"Hmm..." Dan thought out loud, "it's hard to put into words... I think I need to gather more empirical data to do the description justice."

Roz cocked an eye at him. "Something tells me you have ulterior motives..."

" _Moi_? Don't you trust me?" he raised his eyebrows with mock hurt.

"I trust you as far as I can throw you."

"Wow, Roz... I'm touched," he smiled at her.

"You should be, there's few people I'm willing to say that about," she cracked a smile.

"Be my dinner date?" he asked, turning and offering her his arm.

"Stranger things have happened," she shook her head, sliding her arm into his, "where to?"

He paused a second, then gave her a sly look. "Wherever they have exceptionally messy hot wings."

The End

* * *

Thus concludes my first "real" 'shipper story for Dan and Roz! Did you like it? Was it believable, or too far-fetched? Am I missing a comma somewhere? I appreciate your review!

~Anne


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